


The Licking Of Ryan Callahan

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Good Enough [4]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017-2018 NHL Season, Angst and Humor, Anxiety, Established Relationship, M/M, Tourette's Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 12:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18366017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: He’s not really expecting Patrice to talk to him again for the rest of the night, forget about coming near him. So it’s startling when he feels the weight distribution on the other end of the couch change. Patrice is resting his elbows on his knees, hands folded together; he’s not looking at Brad.“Everyone else will tell you this, too, but that was a really stupid decision.” Patrice is glaring at the wall. “You need to stop being so damn impulsive, and if you do this again on purpose I might end up being the one who punches you for it.”[For anyone scared to read this because they think Tourette's is some horrible disease, it's not. It's commonly portrayed in media as the behavior disorder that makes you scream swear words at people no matter how inaccurate that really is.]





	The Licking Of Ryan Callahan

**Author's Note:**

> Because there's no way I could get away with not addressing this incident.

“We need to talk about this, Bradley.”

“Yeah, can we not?” Brad replies as he gets out of the car.

“ _We need to talk about this, Bradley,_ ” Patrice repeats, sounding much angrier this time.

“Whatever. I’ll sleep on the couch, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

At least they make it inside the apartment and close the door before everything explodes. Patrice spins him around and jabs a finger hard into his sternum: “You get to explain yourself, right now.”

“You never make me explain myself when I deck people!” Brad protests.

His fiancé isn’t having it. “You know, most of the time I can tell the difference between the ticcing and you agitating opponents, but you’re really blurring the lines for me, here. Now answer, yes or no: when you kissed Komarov in November, was that a tic?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, and the middle of last month when you _licked_ him?”

“Yeah, that was a tic.”

“And how about tonight with Callahan?”

Brad manages not to give into his impulses and lie, mostly because he knows how fucking bad at it he is. “No. This time it was on purpose.” He turns his eyes to the floor.

Patrice takes a deep breath and even without looking Brad knows he’s pinching the spot between this eyes. “Why?”

“To make you jealous?”

Wrong answer. Patrice shoves him backwards with both palms. “ _Stop joking!_ This isn’t funny, Brad! Are you _trying_ to get punished?!”

“Pat-”

“ANSWER ME!”

Brad’s never seen him like this - so furious the veins are sticking out of his neck, red-faced and screaming. But he knows Patrice too well, and he can also see that his fiancé is (at least in part) hanging onto this state of fury to hide how upset he really is.

“It just… seemed like a good idea at the time,” Brad finally explains, desperately trying to stop his voice from breaking into a pathetic whimper. As if he could even be more pathetic than he already is. “I thought maybe I could get him to fight and he’d get a penalty. And-” Brad chokes on his words for a second. “It seems like. Um. Sometimes, it seems like it’s been getting worse again. And. Um. I did it because then maybe it wouldn’t feel like that. And I was just being stupid. But. Like. Still in control of shit. I was freaking out.”

Patrice rubs his face really hard with one palm, then starts pacing. “I think I need a few minutes.”

 _Before I say something I’ll regret and possibly end our entire relationship_ isn’t added, but it still hangs ominously between them just as strongly as if it’d been said. Brad nods without a word and shuffles off to the living room. He’s going to be on the couch tonight anyway, he might as well not waste time in going there.

Brad bangs his fist on his leg and then into his ear without meaning to, but this time it feels like he deserves to be hurt by his tics. It’s not like they haven’t been hurting him his entire life anyway, they might as well graduate to fucking bruising him. He curls up in the corner of the couch with his head under his arms, because sometimes it helps him stop moving. To make up for the limited range of motion, his toes scrunch up inside his socks and he bites the end of his tongue.

He’s not really expecting Patrice to talk to him again for the rest of the night, forget about coming near him. So it’s startling when he feels the weight distribution on the other end of the couch change. Patrice is resting his elbows on his knees, hands folded together; he’s not looking at Brad.

“Everyone else will tell you this, too, but that was a really stupid decision.” Patrice is glaring at the wall. “You need to stop being so damn impulsive, and if you do this again on purpose _I_ might end up being the one who punches you for it.” A pause. “Now why are you anxious? You tic more when you’re anxious, so will it simmer down again now we’re out of the playoffs?”

Brad has to swallow first before he can answer. “Oh. Uh, that probably didn’t help…”

Patrice gets quiet: “Are you having second thoughts?”

“What? No. Shouldn’t I ask _you_ that? I’m such a fucking dumbass, I know _I_ wouldn’t want to marry me…”

“Please try to be serious, Brad.”

He shakes his head and can’t help blurting out: “I’m still waiting for you to come to your senses and give up on me! Most people already would’ve by now.”

Patrice sighs, so softly Brad almost doesn’t hear it. “I’m not most people. Just because I got mad at you for doing something stupid doesn’t mean I’m not still going to marry you in August. For Christ’s sake, Brad, if I got worked up and lost it every time you act like an idiot, I would’ve died of an anger stroke three weeks into our relationship.”

This, at least, gets Brad to laugh a little. He finally unfolds himself and sits like a person. “The positive side of you being too nice for your own good.”

“Please try to have a higher opinion of yourself, Bradley. You’re so ridiculously cocky when we’re in public or with the team, maybe you should try actually believing half the things you say about yourself to other people. But when the preseason starts, you can’t keep trying to one-up your disorder by attracting attention to yourself and getting penalties. The refs already hate you enough that you take sticks to the face and it doesn’t get called, there’s no need to make things worse.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Pat.”

“I know you are… I’m still not happy with you, but I forgive you anyway and I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch. _But,_ there’s one thing you need to do for me in return.”

“Sure, what is it?”

Patrice reaches down next to his foot, picks up the bottle of mouthwash that he’d apparently had hidden there this whole time, and shoves it into Brad’s hands. “Bathroom sink. Go.”

Brad laughs. “Yeah, I don’t blame you… he tasted like sweat.”

“I didn’t ask, and I also didn’t need to know that. Go clean your damn mouth.” But there’s some notes of humor in Patrice’s voice, and he’s smiling a little as he says it. Brad grins back as he gets up to comply.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, apparently I don't agree with what I said in the first part of this series - Brad totally licked Callahan on purpose in this universe. Oh, well.


End file.
